The Game
by HCAddict
Summary: Sam and Dean play mini-golf. Teenchesters. Inspired by a quote from "Angel Heart". Contains a few swear words.


_Inspired by a quote from "Angel Heart" last night._

xxxx

"Come on, Sammy, let's get out of here for a little while."

Sam looked up from his history book, surprise written plainly across his face, "Dad's going to be back in an hour, we can't leave."

"We'll be back before him if we hurry." Dean retorted, pushing his chair back from the table and reaching over to shut his younger brother's textbook, "If I have to sit here and watch you study for one more minute, my brain will explode."

"I have a midterm tomorrow, Dean." Sam complained as he reached for his jacket, "What if they ask some obscure question about the Magna Carta and I don't know the answer because I didn't get a chance to review that chapter."

"I'm not taking you to the moon, dork, we're just going down the street. Chill out." Dean rolled his eyes, opening the front door and ushering his 12 year old brother through it, "When we got into town, I saw a mini-golf place. It could be fun."

"You want to play _mini-golf_?" Sam questioned incredulously, "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

"Shut up and get in the car." Dean responded with a glare that held no heat behind it, "You'll thank me one day when you realize no one gives a shit about early American History."

"No one gives a shit about mini-golf, either." Sam pointed out, reaching over to change the dial on the radio and sighing when Dean slapped his hand away, "Just once, can I pick what we listen to?"

Dean popped the cassette tape into the player and turned the volume up, "I'm not listening to any of that alternative crap you like to listen to. Besides, you know the rules; driver-"

"I know, Dean." Sam interrupted, reaching over to turn the music down to a level he deemed acceptable, "You've only said it a million times."

"Why do you look so bummed out? You okay?" Dean asked the younger boy, who had been growing moodier and moodier all week. Dean had assumed it was related to the upcoming Christmas break; their father had informed them the previous weekend that the two week break from school would consist of hunting a werewolf and that after midterms, they'd be hitting the road and relocating yet again. It had been several days, though, and normally Sam would have gotten over his bitchfit by now and accepted the decision as final. Instead, Sam had grown more and more discontent as each day passed, and not only was sullen, broody Sam boring, he was also starting to concern Dean.

Sam shrugged, looking away from Dean and out the window, "It's almost Christmas."

"Not ready to leave the Lakeside Pirates?" Dean questioned, eyebrow raised, "I thought you hated this school."

"It's just like every other school." Sam replied sullenly, "The people suck and the teachers don't care, the food is bland and we're still studying the same stuff we were learning in October when we were in Indiana."

"If it's not the school, what's so awful about it being Christmas? It may even snow."

"That'll be great if we're out in the woods tracking a Wendigo." Sam retorted dryly, "Nothing's wrong with it being Christmas. I'm just tired of everyone being so happy about it."

Dean raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk on his face, "Christmas is generally a pretty happy time for people. Good food, happy music, decorations, presents…"

"Wendigos and research and blood and death." Sam continued with a scowl, "Would it kill him just once to let us have a normal family _anything_?"

"People-"

"I know, people are dying." Sam interrupted with a scowl, "Far be it from us to let people handle their own crap while we spend ten minutes doing something normal for a change."

"Come on, Sam...don't be-"

"Just forget it."

Dean wanted to argue, he wanted to get his brother to understand the importance of what they did and why it was worth sacrificing a family meal, especially when every meal was a family meal; everyone else in their family was dead, it wasn't like they'd have relatives travelling to spend time with them. A glance at his brother's sullen expression changed his mind, he knew it would be impossible for Sam to see things his way and he wasn't in the mood to fight when the kid was already determined to be miserable.

"Can you just try to have fun?" Dean asked as they pulled into the parking lot after a few minutes of silence, "Forget about school, forget about Dad. Just enjoy yourself. This may be the only thing I can give you for Christmas, and I don't want it to be ruined because you're being an emo bitch."

"That's real nice, Dean." Sam replied sarcastically, though his lip curled in a slight smile. It had always been hard for Sam to stay mad at Dean, after all, it wasn't Dean's fault that their Dad kept pulling them out of school and refused to let them enjoy even the most basic of normalities. As they walked to the entrance, Sam saw the snack stand and asked excitedly, "Can we get nachos, too?"

"Whatever you want." Dean replied, smiling as his brother's face lit up. He had expected Sam's mood to improve upon arrival, it wasn't often that they got to do things like this and even though the activity itself was sort of lame, it was exactly the kind of normal family activity that appealed to the younger boy, "They have chili cheese dogs, too."

"Awesome!"

Dean walked to the counter to pay while Sam looked around the tiny gift shop, his hand tracing over the keychains and magnets that were available for purchase, and looked up when Dean returned to stand beside him.

"You ready?"

"Sure!" Sam paused, then asked, "Do you know how to play?"

"How hard can it be? You just hit the ball into the hole." Dean replied with a snort, handing Sam a putter and the pink ball, keeping the blue one for himself and teasing, "I got you your favorite color."

"Shut up." Sam replied, rolling his eyes though he had expected nothing less, "What if it takes longer than an hour and Dad beats us home? We should have left a note or something."

"Would it make him any less mad if we left a note?" Dean questioned, "Don't worry about it, this is all on me if he is angry. Stop looking for reasons to be miserable, let's have some fun."

They made their way to the green strip labeled "1", and Dean eyed the bump in the middle between where they began and the hole. With a smile that was much more cocky than a first time mini-golfer should be, he said, "Piece of cake, Sammy. Watch and learn from the king."

Dean swung the putter at the ball, and the ball rolled up the incline, slowing to a stop, then rolled back down, coming to rest mere inches from Dean's foot. The older brother glared at the younger as Sam started to laugh obnoxiously, sarcastically commenting once he caught his breath, "Uh, 'King'? I think you are supposed to get the ball to the hole. This isn't a boomerang."

"Shut up, Sammy." Dean grumbled, though he smiled in response to Sam's laughter, "I'd like to see you try."

Sam slowly lined up the putter with the ball before eyeing the course and thinking back on his basic math skills. He tilted his head to the side slightly, moving the putter over just a bit and then straightened up, taking a firm swing and watching the pink ball move up the hill and roll down the other side, the ball slowing as it approached the hole and inching forward with the barest bit of momentum as it teetered at the edge of the hole before falling in. Sam bounced in place for a second, excitement radiating from him as he smugly commented, "I think your kingdom has been overthrown, your majesty."

"Smartass." Dean muttered, swinging much harder at his ball with his second stroke and cursing louder than he probably should as the ball hit the wooden beam forming the course with such force that it left the designated area and rolled into the mud lining the edge of the pond.

Sam watched as Dean walked to the ball, stepping over the rope that acted as a barrier preventing customers from getting too close to the blue colored water, and as Dean bent down to pick up his ball, Sam called out, "Uh, Dean? I think you're supposed to play it wherever it lands."

"I'm not going to stand here in the mud trying to hit the ball, Sam." Dean hissed, nudging the ball back to the grass with his foot, "I think I have a defective ball or something."

"Sure, blame your lack of talent on the ball."

"I think they gave me a rubber one or something."

"Whatever gets you through the night, Dean."

Five putts later, the ball finally rolled painstakingly slow towards the hole before finally falling in. Sam held up the index card and mini pencil, calling out in an obnoxious tone that was exclusive to younger siblings, "Sam, one. Dean, seven." The younger boy whistled lowly, commenting, "The paper says you should have been able to do it in 3."

"The paper is full of shit." Dean retorted, slamming his ball down at the start of the next section, "I'm telling you, it's not me, it's the ball."

"Sure it is." Sam consoled with a mock-serious expression, "It may be possessed. Hey, this may be our next hunt!"

Dean tapped the ball, watching it roll around the curved part of the course only to notice too late that there was a hole in the center that acted as a bridge across the strip of water in the center. He held his breath as the ball rolled to the edge of the water, exhaling in relief as it stopped just short of the drop off. He turned to his brother with a scowl, "Not a word."

"Who, me?" Sam asked innocently before studying the course and taking a swing. He frowned as he missed the bridge by mere centimeters, and groaned loudly as the ball landed into the water with a tiny plop.

"Bad luck, Sam." Dean said in a sugary sweet tone, tapping his ball back in the direction of where they started, making the decision that a second chance at getting across the water was worth the points from extra swings. He motioned for Sam to take a turn, and when the younger boy reached down to pick up his ball, Dean made a protesting noise, "No, Sammy, we play it where it lies."

"There's not even though room to take a swing in the water!"

"Sounds like a personal problem to me."

"That's not fair!"

"It should be easy enough, since you're the new reigning king."

"I hate you."

Dean laughed as Sam struggled to figure out how to take the shot, but didn't stop his brother when the younger boy eventually picked up the ball and placed it on the green to take a swing. His laughter died off when Sam sunk the ball with the next swing, deciding this wasn't a good game for them to play, since Sam seemed to be unnaturally good at it.

By the time they reached the 18th hole, the score was even and they were now in super-competitive mode though their game was overrun with laughter. They approached the hole and Sam stopped short, crossing his arms and shaking his head, "I'm not playing anymore."

"Come on, Sammy, it's the last hole. Don't start being a bitch now."

Sam shook his head in protest, then pointed to the course, where a giant clown head sat with it's mouth open, "Not doing it."

"Don't like having your balls in clowns mouths?" Dean joked, though he did take the putter from Sam, knowing his brother was serious when he said he wasn't going to play. He never fully understood why Sam was afraid of clowns, but he respected it as being one of the things that truly caused anxiety in his brother and wasn't going to force him to do anything he didn't want to do. He bent down and picked up the balls, then walked them to the clown and dropped them in the hole, "How about we just call it a tie?"

"Thanks, Dean." Sam replied, beaming at his brother with an expression that clearly said that he thought his brother was the most awesome person in the universe, "Can we get nachos now?"

"And chili cheese dogs."

"With jalapenos?"

"And onions."

"Onions on nachos?" Sam asked, making a horrified face. Dean liked to eat some strange things, but that was crossing the line.

Dean's expression matched his brother's, and he clarified, "No, on the hot dogs. Gross, that would ruin nachos."

"Can we get an ice cream float, too?"

"Sure."

"And cotton candy?"

"Do you want to puke on the way home?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at the list of treats being asked for. They were used to eating junk food, it was part of living the life they were in, but Sam was never a kid with an insatiable appetite.

Sam made a face, then relented, "How about nachos and hot dogs and a soda? No ice cream, no cotton candy."

"That sounds much more reasonable." Dean agreed as they reached the snack counter. His eyes lit up as he read the sign, "Look, Sammy, they have apple pie."

"Eww." Sam replied, making a face. Pie was one of Dean's favorite treats, but it was something that they commonly ate, since it was available nearly everywhere, and Sam wasn't the biggest fan of it unless it was the only option.

Dean rolled his eyes, good-naturedly adding, "Don't be like that, it's healthy."

"Apple pie is not healthy."

"It has fruit in it." Dean pointed out, "Sometimes that's the only fruit I get in a week."

Sam snorted, seeing the truth in it, and waited for Dean to order and pay. As they walked to a nearby picnic table with their purchases, Sam smiled up at his brother, "Hey, Dean?"

"What?"

"Thanks for all of this. You were right, it was fun."

"I'm always right." Dean replied with a smirk, sitting down and picking up a fork to bite into his pie, "I'm glad we decided to come."

"I'll be glad until it's time to take my history midterm, which I'll probably fail now."

"On the bright side, you'll never have to see that teacher again after tomorrow." Dean reasoned, glancing down at his watch with a frown, "Eat fast, we're late."

"How late?" Sam asked, dread filling the pit of his stomach. Even if Dean said he'd take the heat for the decision to leave, there was a good chance their dad wouldn't care who was to blame and punish both of them for disobeying. He pushed his nachos away, moving to stand back up.

Dean caught his brother's arm and pulled him back down, "Late enough where finishing your food won't make a difference one way or the other. Chill out, I've got this."

Sam reluctantly sat back down, nibbling worriedly on his meal and glancing around as if he expected John Winchester to pop out from behind a tree and start ranting and raving at them. He looked back at his brother, unable to worry when he watched Dean make noises at his pie that closely resembled those from a dirty movie. Christmas was going to suck, but none of that seemed important anymore because this was the most fun they had experienced all year.

xxx

_The End._

_Let me know what you thought!_


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